NetherWorld
by kleindog
Summary: Chapter 4: Postcards from the edge arrive. Abby reconnects with Luka, but wonders who is Gillian?
1. Default Chapter

Netherworld  
  
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart CATEGORY: Romance/Drama/AU SPOILERS: Season 9 and first episode of Season 10; the rest is all in my head. I've taken the spoilers that suit my story, and discarded those that do not. Let the buyer beware. DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. I just like moving them around like pieces on a chessboard (Luka is Black King, Carter is White King, Pratt is rook, Gallant is knight.)  
  
SUMMARY: Abby realizes that her relationship with Carter is not working, and decides to call it a day before he does. And then she takes a road trip.  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask. I dare you.  
  
Chapter 1. And I'm on My Way  
  
If you my love must think that-a-way I'm sure your mind is a-roamin' I'm sure your thoughts are not with me But with the country where you're goin'  
  
"Because I want to marry you!" The words kept echoing in her ears weeks after Carter had left her standing out in the cold. Why did their significant moments always seem to happen outside, Abby wondered whimsically as she headed to work. So many moments outside: their discussion by the river when he let her know he was tired of being just friends, their argument by the river when she approached him about a relationship and he rejected her, their discussion outside the bar the night they heard Mark Green had died, their arguments and reconciliation, and the hundred other petty crises taking place between them. All of these moments had taken place in the great outdoors, and usually when both were freezing to death. Things had not gone as she had expected at the restaurant-and what a strange silence between them, magnified by the fact that they were the only two in the dining room, with waiters and bus boys moving silently around like specters in a haunted house. And things had gotten progressively worse as the weeks wore on.  
  
She had been sure Carter was going to ask her to marry him again that night at the restaurant, had thought long and hard about how to respond, only to have the chance taken away from her. And then, to find the ring in his pocket while he was in the shower confirmed all of her bad feelings about his bright idea of marriage. She had replaced the ring without letting him know that she had found it, had gone to bed with him, made love, fell asleep in his arms. But the next day she could not be in the same room with him any length of time, could not make her gaze meet his. She felt strange in her skin, uncomfortable with herself, and sick to death of the direction her life was taking. So, she switched her shift to mids to make it easier on the both of them, and to concentrate on the changes she felt she had to make if she didn't want to go under.  
  
She forced herself to attend A.A. meetings, make contact with someone, find a sponsor, and share her story. It felt good to pour out her woes to strangers, to get this tangle of guilt and misery and alienation out of her gut. She felt like the Ancient Mariner, snatching at people passing by to tell them her cautionary tale of what happens when you grow up in a family and you are "outside of the disease," yet know it so well, and still you're still blindsided by its occurrence in your brother. So blindsided that getting roaring, blind drunk seems the obvious solution. Once the story came out, she couldn't stop it-it was like a damn bursting and she wanted to tell it over and over again.  
  
And it felt good to slap on a nicotine patch and stop smoking. She felt cleaner inside, scoured of some of the more caustic emotions that coursed through her. Now, if they could only make a patch to stop her from feeling so damned alone.  
  
When all was said and done, Carter had guessed how she was feeling, had figured out that she had found the ring in the inside pocket of his suit coat. And she knew somewhere deep inside that he couldn't figure out how she felt because he wasn't clear on his own feelings. But she knew. He had changed his mind, realized that she and her family were more baggage than he would ever be willing to take on, given his own baggage carried about every day. He might not realize it yet, but his subconscious had made the connection. So, they argued. They parted. They came back together in a bleak, comfortless embrace. And they parted again, to return to their separate dwellings and start their separate lives. So much had happened since then-Eric's return juxtaposed against Mrs. Carter's death-and their journeys in different directions for different purposes, she to a truck stop to sweep up the remnants of her brother, he to a chair placed next to the bed containing his grandmother's body. And with every passing moment, the chasm between them continued to open wider until the fiasco at the funeral made the cut clean. Their separation seemed inevitable, and they couldn't see the person they knew in each other's features, only a stranger, looking coldly and speaking stilted words.  
  
And now Carter was about to leave for Africa, to do this thing he had to do, to find out the person he was without the familiar confines of his grandmother's house or the strictures of his grandmother's life. And, if she hadn't taken the phone message for him from Luka, he would not have even told her that he was going. How had it happened that they could not even talk to each other anymore? That neither one understood, or even wanted to understand, the other?  
  
Jamming her hands into her jacket pockets, Abby strolled slowly along. She was a bit early for the midnight shift, and had decided to get off the El several stations before her usual stop. She craved some time to walk along and sort through her jumbled thoughts and emotions. She noticed that each streetlight threw out a dim nimbus of light in the cold, damp air-weak halos surrounded each bulb, like the heads of fallen saints. Once upon a time, Carter had offered her a happy ending, like the prince in a fairy tale, and then had thought the better of it and snatched it back. Just as well. She wasn't made for happy endings. The only happy ending she wanted right now was for Eric. She wanted to put Eric back together, just like all of the king's horses and men. Only, Eric wasn't an egg, he was a man on the edge of a ledge, contemplating a leap. After the scene at the funeral, he had disappeared to parts unknown. God only knew when he would show up again, and in what shape. She didn't know how much longer she could just wait.  
  
Pulling a cigarette from her pocket, she fingered it, deciding whether or not to light it. Whatever shattered remnants of her brother were left behind, she needed to reach her hands into the shards and make it right, no matter how it might cut or scar her. The hell with Carter-her focus had to be on Eric. If Carter wanted to end their relationship, fine, it was probably the right decision. But she couldn't let Eric push her away.  
  
With all of her heart, she longed to wind time back, so that there was no disappearance and reappearance, no plane, no military arrest, no desertion, no disease, no separation, and, ultimately, no need for reconciliation with every word or action. But that wasn't possible, either. Time to grow up, Abby, she thought wryly. Time to stop being the scared child who cleans things up one mess at a time, but doesn't fix the root cause of the problem. Time to be decisive with your life. And that meant making things right for Eric first. Only then could she determine what to do with her life. Until then, her life was on hold.  
  
Tossing the unlit cigarette away, she turned and headed toward the hospital. She had made her decision. Time to move, time to act. She had to find him.  
  
Gone away Who knows where you been You take all your lies And wish them all away  
  
I somehow doubt We'll ever be the same There's too much poison And confusion on your face  
  
Would you come back to me Yeah I can't do another day I'm not certain of it anyway I'm not messin' with another life Can I get on without you Tell me lies That you Know I need  
  
Sunday afternoons were usually crazy in the ER, but today was different. It had been slow all day, and extremely quiet for a weekend. John Carter was using the lull to catch up on his paperwork and clear the board. It had been over a week since he had seen Abby-he wasn't actively trying to avoid her, but she had made it easy by scheduling graveyard shifts. He had appreciated having the time away from her, given the upheaval in their relationship, and felt almost guilty at the relief he experienced when he had overheard Weaver tell Susan that Abby had signed up for a stint on mids. He was leaving for Africa on Monday, and wanted desperately to get away without having another confrontation with her.  
  
She had looked stunned when she asked him about his departure, and whether he would have told her. He was irritated by her reaction, and ashamed. Maybe he hadn't thought of how she would feel, but he couldn't let that get in the way of what he had to do. And she had chosen Eric over him every step of the way. Eric would always be there, demanding her attention, for the rest of her life. He just couldn't handle it.  
  
And yet he missed her. Abby was chaos, true, but she was also unrelentingly honest about herself. If he was truthful with himself, he had to admit that he had wanted to change her, to fix her and make her right. But, what was right? The pallid, rigidly correct women he had dated through college and medical school? The society women that attended foundation luncheons and charity functions with his grandmother? Or someone damaged, like himself?  
  
He pushed the thought abruptly away-he didn't want to be dark, but there it was. The stabbing, the painful recovery, the addiction, the plane trip to rehab, the slow journey back from rehab-he would never be the same again. A portion of himself was damaged, and wouldn't be made right no matter what he did. The addiction always lay just on the edge of consciousness, tempting him at times when he felt like life was sweeping him along. Abby was kin in this battle, someone with pretty potent demons of her own to fight and strategies to keep the darkness at bay. But she also was dragging him down in an undertow she couldn't escape. He didn't want his life to be dark, and she seemed to tolerate the darkness a little too much.  
  
A part of him still loved her-at the end of the day, it was there, irrefutable, unmovable, unchanged by argument or deception or estrangement- at the same time that part of him was repelled by her. He just didn't know which part would win.  
  
"Hey, John, do you know where Abby is," Kerry broke into his thoughts, calling out across the corridor. "I called her home phone and her cell phone to see if she would switch shifts today, and she didn't answer."  
  
Carter looked up from the chart he held. "No, I don't know where she is."  
  
"I could really use her," Weaver added as she headed down the hall. "Let me try calling upstairs to see if she's there."  
  
Funny, Abby usually stayed pretty close to home on Sundays. Maybe she was sleeping and ignoring the phones-she had a bad habit of doing that. He looked up as the ambulance bay doors opened and Susan strolled in. "Hey, where have you been--you were supposed to relieve me an hour ago. I've got a million things to do before I leave tomorrow."  
  
Susan replied ruefully, "Sorry, traffic was just awful at O'Hare."  
  
Carter joked, "Chuck headed back to Vegas?"  
  
Susan stopped unwinding the scarf from around her neck and took a deep breath. "No, I dropped Abby off at the airport."  
  
He stared at her. "Abby?"  
  
"Yes, she had a 12:00 flight." Susan fiddled with her gloves, stuffing them into the pockets of her jacket.  
  
Carter lowered the clipboard to the desk. "Flight to where?"  
  
Susan heaved a sigh. "Minnesota. She's gone to find Eric."  
  
"Gone for how long?" Funny, he thought, his mouth was shaping the words but he had no idea what he was saying.  
  
Susan looked at him soberly. "She didn't say."  
  
"John," Weaver came walking quickly down the hall, "Do you know why Abby resigned?"  
  
"She resigned?" Carter's mouth hung open.  
  
Susan cleared her throat and turned to Kerry. "She left to look for her brother, and she's not sure if she's coming back. She didn't want to leave us hanging, Kerry, so she made a clean break, thinking we could hire another nurse."  
  
Kerry looked genuinely distressed. "She was one of the best nurses we ever had. It's going to be hard to replace her." Sensing the tension between Carter and Susan, she announced, "Guess I better see if Haleh or Yosh can fill in today," and quietly withdrew.  
  
Before he could open his mouth, Susan held up her hand and remarked sharply, "Don't you dare act outraged that she didn't tell you, not after the way she found out you were going to Africa. You two have been acting like total strangers lately." After a moment's silence, she continued in a softer tone, "Abby blames herself for the problems in your relationship, John. She has taken Eric's behavior upon herself, and believes that you'll never be able to come to grips with her having to take care of him. She wanted to be the first to leave, and she wanted you to be able to go to Africa free of entanglements or regrets."  
  
He ran his hand over his face and sighed. "I know things have been pretty bad between us, but I didn't think she'd take such drastic measures-I didn't think she'd leave without saying goodbye."  
  
Susan laid a gentle hand on his arm. "Just like you were going to leave without saying goodbye? Look, John, I made her promise to check in with me every once in awhile. When she calls me, I'll tell her to contact you."  
  
Strange, he thought, to feel disappointed and relieved at the same time. "No, don't bother. Leave it alone." He sighed, "Maybe things are better this way."  
  
"Carter," Susan protested, but he cut her off.  
  
"No, Susan, if this is the way she wants it to end, then leave it be." It's like she's a complete stranger, he thought numbly as he headed toward the lounge, like I never knew her at all. And the hell of it is, I didn't-I saw her the way I wanted her to be.  
  
The title is courtesy of George Gissing. First set of song lyrics is Boots of Spanish Leather; imagine it sung by the incomparable Bob Dylan. Second set (do I even have to tell you?) is the Goo-Goo Dolls' Hate This Place, written by John Rzenik (nothing better for sheer misery and isolation than listening to the GGD's). Let's see where this goes-reviews will help shape the direction (hint hint). 


	2. On the Road Again

Netherworld  
  
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart CATEGORY: Romance/Drama/AU SPOILERS: First episodes of Season 10; the rest is all in my head. DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. This does not preclude me from playing with them, their psyches, their fates, and their futures.  
  
SUMMARY: Abby, in search of Eric, gets some bad news from home.  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask. I dare you.  
  
"Kathy, I said as we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh, Michigan seems like a dream to me now It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw- I've come to look for America"  
  
The road wasn't so bad, once you got used to it, she thought, sitting in her fifth Greyhound Station in a little over a week. Yes, riding buses did get old after awhile, but she was meeting such interesting people-people running away from or towards someone or something, people undecided what to do, people just moving along for fear of rooting in one place. Something to be said for having no roots, Abby thought. Taught you to travel light.  
  
And all of these people wanted to talk, which was fine with Abby because it meant she didn't have to. She'd had enough talking at A.A. meetings to last her the rest of her life. After a while, baring your soul got old. She was tired of feeling naked, and wanted to wrap herself in extraneous details. With strangers, you got to reinvent yourself all over again. You were whoever or whatever you wanted to be-tinker, tailor, soldier.and then her mind snapped back to Eric again. Where in the world was he?  
  
She was on her third week of bus trips headed west, moving briskly, and yet Eric always seemed to be one leg of the journey ahead of her. She had gone from Chicago to Minneapolis, on to Fargo, and from there to Bismark, stopping at small towns to stretch her legs and stay a day to show his picture to people at motels, truck stops, and other favorite haunting grounds of her brother. Now, she was about to head to Billings, Montana; Eric had purchased a ticket just hours before her, heading to the wild west where he had told the cute, blonde ticket attendant in Fargo that he wanted to work on a ranch, of all things. If Abby hadn't been tired, she would have burst out laughing. Cowboy Eric, as if he were five years old again and running around in the little red boots with fake spurs and the 10- gallon (well, 2 gallon for a child) hat Maggie had given him for Christmas. It figured.  
  
She had visited diners and cafes, small hotels and bed & breakfasts, truck stops and bus stations, showing Eric's photo and asking if anyone had seen him, spoken to him, or knew where he was headed. And in every town, she heard the same refrain to her verse-yes, I saw that young man. He came in to buy gum, he stopped by for breakfast, he spent the night here, he got a ticket for the next bus out. He was charming, he was rude, he was clean and handsome, he was scruffy and surly. But he was always moving, staying ahead of her, as if he knew she was hot on his tracks.  
  
And he was steadily moving west toward a childhood dream. Well, she thought, shaking off her bemusement, he's got to stop when he reaches the ocean. He doesn't have the money to buy a plane ticket. But he could turn back east. She groaned out loud at the thought.  
  
"Are you all right?" a polite voice across from her inquired. She looked up and focused on an elderly couple smiling at her. The gentleman had spoken. She smiled in turn and responded, "I'm fine. I guess I was thinking out loud."  
  
"Well," the man replied wryly, "I do a lot of that myself. I'm John, and this is my wife Hettie."  
  
Abby smiled warmly. "I'm Abby."  
  
"Pleased to meet you, Abby. Where are you headed?"  
  
"Billings. I'm hoping to meet my brother. How about you," she hurried on before they could ask why she was only hoping and not certain of meeting him.  
  
"Oh, we're heading east to Chicago. Our son is getting married, and we're going to meet the young woman." The man and his wife were smiling at her, expecting her to share in their joy and satisfaction. She couldn't disappoint them.  
  
"Oh, how wonderful for you. Congratulations."  
  
"Yes, Mike is finally getting married. To tell the truth, we'd just about given up hope. I mean, the boy is almost 40!"  
  
Abby mentally winced. "That's not so old."  
  
"You have to understand, we were married at 18, and have been married for 40 years," Hettie explained to her. "Mike is our only son. We've been hoping he would find someone to love, and now he has. All that's left is grandchildren!" She was positively beaming, Abby thought, now that she had Mike's entire future mapped out for him. As if hearing herself, Hettie laughed self-consciously. "But that's just selfish on our parts-we're really happy because he has found someone he really loves. And she loves him back. You know what that's like, don't you?" she asked gently.  
  
"Yes," Abby replied slowly, "I do know how it feels to love someone." And how it feels to lose them, because of a stupid argument. And how it feels to see them every day, living their life as if nothing ever happened. "I hope Mike is very happy."  
  
"Thank you, I'm sure he will be," John responded happily. An announcement blared over the loudspeaker. "Hear that, Hettie? That's our bus being called." Both rose unsteadily and gathered their bags. "You have a good trip, Abby, and have fun with your brother."  
  
"Thanks. Safe trip," she replied.  
  
She watched the couple trot off toward their bus, the husband's arm supporting his wife. Sitting back in her plastic seat, she glanced at the departure board. At least a half an hour before her bus left. Time to make a few phone calls.  
  
She pulled her cell phone from her pack, the one luxury she had allowed herself on this traveling circus. She wanted Maggie to be able to reach her in case Eric should contact their mother. She would check in with Maggie; she knew that the latest news of Eric would ease her mother's mind, especially given she was worrying about Abby being on the road as well.  
  
Maybe she'd check in with Susan, too. She missed her friend, and Susan was exactly the level-headed soul she needed to plug into occasionally to ground herself. Susan would think she was nuts to continue on this journey, but she would also understand. God knows she had done it enough herself with Chloe and Susie.  
  
Dialing Maggie's number, she waited through several rings until the answering machine picked up. She listened to her mother's familiar message, and spoke after the tone. "Hi Mom, it's Abby. I've got a good lead on Eric, so I'm at the bus station getting ready to head out to Billings, Montana. The ticket seller at the bus station said he was heading that way, so I'm hot on his trail. I'll give you a call when I get there. Or you can call me." A pause. "I love you," she added, then disconnected.  
  
She started to dial Susan, but heard the boarding call for her bus. It will wait, she thought firmly. I'd better go to the bathroom and get a cup of coffee. And maybe another paperback, she thought idly, swinging her backpack over her shoulder and wheeling her bag along behind her.  
  
The bus was only half filled and quiet, as nighttime buses often were. They would arrive at Billings tomorrow morning, so it would be good to sleep on this trip. Sleep would be a welcome departure from all the thinking she had been doing lately. Idly, she wondered what Luka and Carter were doing. They must have been together in Africa for-what, 2 weeks now? She couldn't remember. Time was flowing together without the artificial boundaries created by work days and weekends. She wondered how Luka was-she suspected that he was suffering from depression, but had been so wrapped up in Eric's misery and the unraveling of her relationship with Carter that she had given little time, energy, or thought to Luka. Now, in the open spaces of time given to her as she traveled, she remembered their interactions and her observations, tied them together, and tried to make sense of them.  
  
She remembered how lost he had been the first time he had volunteered for an assignment with Doctors Without Borders, and how he had come back with a sense of self-worth and purpose. But his sense of contentment didn't last very long. Given the smallpox scare and subsequent quarantine, she hadn't seen him for 2 weeks. When they crossed paths again, he was like a stranger. Restless and argumentative, Luka had been on a bender through nurses and women. When she had approached him about it (the last thing on earth she wanted to do, but damn Weaver!), he had been obnoxious. Honestly, she would have stayed miles away from the subject if Weaver hadn't foisted the nurse manager role upon her. When several of the nurses lodged formal complaints against him, she was forced to say something, he responded flippantly, and an even larger chasm was driven between them.  
  
After that, she noticed that he was often late to work, and she heard gossip that he was drinking-oh, never on the job, but she could tell the signs-who better than her to tell the signs? His unhappiness ultimately culminated in the car accident that had injured a father and son, as well as Harkins. Abby knew that she had overreacted, that had been hard on him; when she tried to apologize, he brushed her off, and she didn't blame him. She was afraid for him, but in the end he chose to return to Doctors Without Borders for another assignment, more difficult and dangerous than the first. And Carter, lost in his own way, had gone along for the ride.  
  
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Both were lost to her now, but why did the loss of Luka seem so much worse than her breakup with Carter? That breakup seemed clean, somehow; Carter had not tried to reach her once she had hopped on the airplane for Minnesota. Better that way, but she felt guilty for not being more upset about losing Carter. Confused and too tired to think it out thoroughly, Abby pulled her jacket around her and tried to sleep.  
  
Day was breaking as the bus pulled into Billings. Abby stumbled off the bus, and headed into the station in search of a hotel room. A half hour later, she was ensconced in a small room at the Holiday Inn. It was more expensive than Motel 7, but she wanted a hot bath and a huge bed and a television that got more than three stations. The bath was wonderful, and the bed was hard as a rock-what luxury! She had called room service and had a club sandwich and bottled water delivered, as well as a carafe of coffee. Settling herself square in the middle of the bed, she turned on the television.  
  
"-more turmoil in the Congo, Erica. Can you tell us what's going on?" A newsman was trying to look eager and somber at the same time. A woman in a candy pink suit with huge pearls appeared on a screen just over the newsman's right shoulder. She looked serious as well, but also excited with the evident bad news she bore. Hmm, Abby thought idly, where are the pickles? Gotta have pickles with a club sandwich.  
  
"Well, Alan, we've just had word that an American doctor is missing in the Congo." Abby's head snapped up. "Apparently, a clinic run by Doctors Without Borders was overrun by rebels several days ago. A number of doctors escaped, but one is missing and believed dead. U.N. Troops are being deployed to the region to stabilize the population. That's all we know at this time."  
  
Abby snatched at her backpack, and clawed through her possessions in search of her cell phone. Her hands were shaking so hard that she had difficulty dialing, and had to disconnect and dial again before the call went through. "Be home, Susan, be home," she murmured.  
  
"Hello?" Susan's tired voice came over the line.  
  
"Susan! Susan, it's Abby. I just saw the news on Africa, it's not-well, it can't be them."  
  
Silence, and then she heard Susan take a shaky breath.  
  
"You'd better brace yourself, Abby, there's been bad news," Susan replied, and Abby could hear the tears in her voice.  
  
"Carter-" Abby said sharply.  
  
"No, not Carter. It's Luka. There was an incident at one of the clinics in Africa."  
  
"Incident? What do you mean?"  
  
Susan cleared her throat. "Um, rebel soldiers invaded the camp." Susan stopped to clear her throat again.  
  
"What about Luka?" Abby couldn't comprehend what Susan was telling her.  
  
"Oh, Abby, he's missing, and the authorities think he's dead."  
  
It was Susan's turn to wait for a response.  
  
"Luka," Abby repeated in a long sigh, and the sound was like her soul escaping from her body, a ghostly sound that sent prickles up Susan's arms.  
  
"Abby," Susan barked, "are you there? Did you hear what I said?"  
  
Later, Abby would remember that they had continued the conversation, but she would not remember much of what Susan said. Abby registered that Carter had returned to Africa to look for Luka, that he had been following leads and the news so far wasn't good, but they couldn't give up hope. Then Susan had asked after Eric, which gave Abby purpose-at last, some good news she could share.  
  
After a long silence, Susan asked, "Abby, what are you going to do now?"  
  
"I don't know, go after Eric, I guess. What help could I be to Luka? Listen, Susan," she continued urgently, "if you hear anything, anything at all, please let me know. Call me anytime, all right? I need to know."  
  
"I will," Susan replied soothingly, "but you stay in touch. I don't want to lose you-" she stopped abruptly.  
  
Abby smiled weakly, "I know what you mean, and I will be in touch. Take care."  
  
"You too."  
  
Incredible, Abby thought numbly as she disconnected and cradled the phone in her hand. I might never see Luka again. I may not hear his voice, or see his grin or his hands. She remembered his hands best of all, long and thin, beautifully shaped, the palms slightly calloused so that when he ran them through her hair, a few strands would snag and linger, as if they couldn't bear for the contact to be broken.  
  
His eyes, his smile, his concentration, his intensity, his love for his dead wife and children, his devotion to his profession-God, it couldn't be true, she thought, the panic rising within her, he couldn't be gone. Wouldn't she feel differently? Wouldn't there be such a large hole in the collective energy of the world that she'd feel diminished?  
  
Without realizing it, she slipped to her knees next to the bed and clasped her hands in front of her. "Please, Luka, come back. You have to be alive- you must stay alive. Please God, don't let him be dead, keep him safe-bring him home. Luka, oh Luka, you have to come back. I can't stand it- it's too soon. We haven't had enough time-YOU haven't had enough time. I have things I have to tell you. Oh, please, God, anything but this."  
  
A frightened, panicked part of her wanted to go back to Chicago and wait for news of Luka, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Susan, God bless her, would keep her informed. And Eric was so close, she could sense him in the eerie way they had been able to sense one another since childhood.  
  
So, she ate her sandwich and drank her water, and went through the familiar jerky motions of dressing and brushing teeth and hair, and pulling out her notepad. She would sleep for a bit, then it would be time to look for Eric again.  
  
"Kathy, I'm lost I said, although I knew she was sleeping I'm empty and aching and I don't know why Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike, They've all come to look for America"  
  
Song is America, courtesy of Simon and Garfunkel 


	3. Lost and Found

Netherworld  
  
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart CATEGORY: Drama/AU SPOILERS: First episodes of Season 10; the rest is all in my head. DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. This does not preclude me from playing with them, their psyches, their fates, and their futures.  
  
SUMMARY: Abby finds something lost, and loses something found. Carter? Luka? Stay tuned.  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask.  
  
Chapter 3. Lost and Found  
  
"Shut it down and call this road a day And put this silence in my heart in a better place I have traveled with your ghost for so many years That I see you in the shadows In hotel rooms and headlights Coming up beside me Whether it's day or night  
  
These days my life is an open book With pages I cannot seem to find These days your face In my memory Is in folded hand of grace against these times"  
  
It was her fourth diner of the day, coming hot on the heels of five hotels and seven motels. I'm really seeing America from the point of view of a truck driver, Abby thought idly as she walked into the Forest Diner. The diner was a true piece of Americana, gleaming aluminum and glass with red leather booths and a long counter with swivel stools.  
  
She scanned the booths first, then slowly glanced at the occupants of the stools at the counter-bingo. A man in a worn bomber jacket and a baseball cap was hunched over a menu at the end of the counter. Her heart thudding double time, she moved slowly to stand behind him, avoiding the curious gaze of the waitress behind the counter and praying that she was right.  
  
"Eric," she said quietly. He swung around from the counter and gazed at her, then slowly smiled. He looked like a homeless person, she thought, one of the many people she had seen hovering on the edges of the bus and train stations on her dash west from Chicago. They were ragged and shabby, with empty eyes. But Eric's eyes weren't empty; he looked at her with a strange combination of defensiveness and calculation.  
  
"Caught me, have you?" he asked as he swiveled to face her.  
  
"And what should I do with you now that I've caught you?" she asked, crossing her arms on her chest.  
  
He thought for a second, and replied, "Feed me and take me home with you?"  
  
"That I will." She sat on the stool next to his and plucked a menu from his hands. "I'm guessing you want to be fed first," she remarked lightly, glancing at the day's specials.  
  
"You guessed right." He paused before asking, "How did you find me? And what are you doing here-where's Carter?"  
  
She lowered the menu to the counter. "I found you by following your tracks. You are cute and friendly, and people tend to remember you. Especially the girls."  
  
"So I guess I shouldn't rob any banks, huh?" he responded wryly. "But why have you been following me?"  
  
She sighed in exasperation. "Because I'm worried about you, you idiot. The last I saw you, you were promising me you'd stay in the rehabilitation program at County. Next thing I know, you've vanished. I wasn't about to hang around the phone for the next several months, waiting for you to show up again. No way, buddy boy. For better or worse, you're stuck with me until you can prove you're doing OK on your own."  
  
He grimaced. "Ouch. Won't you just take my word for it that I'll take care of myself?"  
  
"Nope." Abby broke off what she was going to say when the waitress approached them. "Hi, I'll have a piece of your key lime pie and a cup of coffee, black. What do you want, Eric?"  
  
"Cheeseburger, fries, and a chocolate shake, please." He smiled winningly at the waitress. "And can I have a Coke, too, please?"  
  
The waitress smiled warmly at him. "You sure can, honey," she chirped, and sauntered away with their order.  
  
"Haven't lost the charm, have you?" Abby smiled.  
  
"And you haven't told me how Carter is," Eric replied.  
  
Abby let out a long breath. "I don't know how Carter is-we're not together anymore."  
  
Eric played with the napkin holder. "He couldn't get over what happened at the funeral, huh," he asked quietly.  
  
"It was more than that, Eric. The funeral just brought to a head what we both had known for several months-we are too different to make a go of it. There's a huge gulf between our experiences and expectation, and it's impossible to bridge that gulf. The funeral just pointed that out." She forced herself to continue, "Carter went to Africa to practice medicine, and I headed out after you. End of story."  
  
"Is that why you're ordering coffee and pie?" he asked slyly. "Weren't you two the coffee and pie champions of Chicago?"  
  
Abby stared at him stupidly. She hadn't realized what she had ordered, it just came out without thinking. "I've liked coffee and pie for a long time, Eric," she responded evenly. "Just like I was a nurse before he came along."  
  
"I'm just saying, you may have more in common than you think." In an abrupt shift of conversation, he continued, "Hey, how is that foreign doctor that you're friends with?"  
  
Abby ducked her head. "He's missing-and it's a long story. I'll tell you about it after we eat, and after you clean up."  
  
He smiled. "Believe it or not, I am happy to see you, Abs."  
  
She returned his smile. "Back at you."  
  
*************  
  
Abby looked at the clock next to the bed. It was 1:00 a.m. She knew she should be asleep, but her mind was clicking along from one thought to another. So much had happened that day. She had found Eric, and they had come to an understanding. After a long talk, he accepted the fact that she was going to stay with him and see him through his treatment.  
  
They had formulated a plan-they would go to Seattle, where Abby knew of a rehabilitation program that focused on vigorous physical activity as well as drugs and counseling. The physical aspect appealed to Eric, as she knew it would. She could get a job at any number of hospitals in the greater Seattle area, and they would share an apartment. She promised him that once he was on his feet again, she would cut the strings and leave him to lead his own life.  
  
But, for the time being, she needed to stay with him and make sure he followed through with the treatment. He understood; after all, Abby had to do for him what she had never quite been able to do for Maggie.  
  
Maggie, she thought and remembered the phone conversation among the three of them. Her mother had been overjoyed to hear that Abby had found Eric; when they had called their mother earlier in the evening to tell her of their plans, it was all they could do to keep her from hopping on a bus and meeting them in Seattle. After much negotiation, Maggie agreed to come visit when both were settled in Seattle.  
  
Seattle. Abby sighed. A rainy place, from the little she knew. Very beautiful, very different from Chicago and the mid-West that she knew and loved so well. What in the world would she do with herself in Seattle? "Guess I'll find out," she muttered sleepily, punching at her pillow and rolling onto her side.  
  
She idly wondered what Susan was doing at home, then sharply thought of Luka again. She didn't want to call Susan every day to find out if she had heard anything, but not knowing was horrible. She tried to imagine Luka dead, but couldn't do it. Her life seemed too complete-she couldn't believe that he could be dead, and she wouldn't feel something-anything. She had never been an optimist, but he had to be all right.  
  
She slipped from the bed quietly to kneel on the floor. This was getting to be a habit, she thought wryly. She must be scaring God, praying two nights in a row. "Thanks for letting me find Eric today. Help him to get better. And please let Luka come home soon. Keep him safe and well, and let me see him again. Thanks."  
  
She remained on the floor for a second, head bent to her chest. Funny, she thought, Luka's the one I want to see, not Carter. Without even realizing it, she had let Carter go from her hopes and dreams. She felt a pang of loss, but not as horrible a pang as she had felt when she had heard about Luka's disappearance. She tried to puzzle it out, but was too tired and muzzy-headed.  
  
Shrugging her shoulders and shivering, she climbed quickly back into bed. Tomorrow, they were off to Seattle, to the Emerald City, to see a wizard about a cure for Eric. And what would the wizard have in his little black bag for her? Who knew-maybe a heart, maybe a brain-but she intended to find out. Abby yawned, turned onto her stomach, and slept.  
  
"No one's ever come between your memory and me I have driven this weary vessel here alone Will you still find me if I leave you here beside this road Cuz' I need someone who can touch me Who'll put no one above me Someone who need me Like the air he breathes.  
  
I can't remember where this toll road goes Maybe it's Fort Worth or a heart of gold The price of love is such a heavy toll That I've lived my love in the backroads With your love in my pocket If I spend the love you gave me Tell me where will it go?"  
  
The song is by Nanci Griffith from her marvelous album, "The Dust Bowl Symphony," which is full of songs that will break your heart. This chapter is a little slow, but I need to set up events to come. Is anybody out there reading? Please review and tell me what you think. 


	4. Everything Must Go

Netherworld  
  
AUTHOR: Emma Stuart  
  
CATEGORY: Drama/AU  
  
SPOILERS: First episodes of Season 10; the rest is all in my head.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I do not own ER, or any of the characters. This does not preclude me from playing with them, their psyches, their fates, and their futures.  
  
SUMMARY: A postcard from Carter finds its way to Abby with startling news. Abby cries. Eric sighs. Also, Abby reconnects with Luka, but wonders who is Gillian?  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is for Mrs. Eyre, whose review kept me going. I'm pretty damned hard over on Luka myself.  
  
ARCHIVE: Just ask.  
  
Chapter 4. Everything Must Go  
  
"Talk about the famous road not taken/In the end we never took it/And if somewhere on the way/We got a few good licks in/No one's ever gonna know/'Cause we're goin' out of business/Everything must go"  
  
Juggling her keys, the mail, a bag of groceries, and her purse, Abby made a valiant effort to unlock the apartment door. Just put something down, she thought in exasperation, but was eventually able to jam the key in the lock, turn the knob, and enter the apartment with groceries, letters, and purse intact.  
  
"Eric?" she called out, but there was no response. Must still be at work. Good, it would give her time to make a cup of coffee and relax. After a month of graveyard shifts, she was back on day shifts again and her body had not quite made the adjustment. Setting the groceries and mail on the kitchen counter, she went through the familiar moves of making coffee, deep in thought.  
  
It had been six months since she and her brother had arrived in Seattle. In that time, both had managed to get jobs-she at a city hospital, he at a local REI outlet. Eric had been true to his word and followed through his rehabilitation, and was doing very well. He had made a number of friends in the program, which had led to his job at the outdoor outfitters. A combination of medication, hard outdoor activity, and growing friendships had helped to heal her brother, and she constantly marveled at the change in him.  
  
He was doing so well. He had found a niche-he loved the cool, rainy weather of Seattle, the beautiful views and youthful population, even the horrible traffic. He could hop in a car and be in the Cascades in an hour or so, hiking or rock climbing or surfing. And she was doing better as well, truth be told. It had been a year since she'd had a drink or a cigarette. And hiking had improved her stamina, firmed her muscles, and helped her sleep better at night.  
  
In spite of her improved physical and mental states, Abby still felt out of place. She was no nature girl, and she felt older than dirt when she met Eric and his friends for a meal or a hike, or when he dragged her along to a jazz club or party. She had nothing in common with this city, but she stayed because Eric loved it and she couldn't quite let him out of her sight. Not yet.  
  
Best of all, she had finally gotten good news from Chicago. She hugged it to her like a good talisman. Susan had called several weeks ago to announce that Luka had been found-Carter had returned to Africa and been successful in finding him, against fairly insurmountable odds. Luka was back home, malnourished and ill, but alive. Alive! Maybe all of those prayers had produced enough good karma to get him home, Abby thought hopefully. Since she had heard the news, Luka had been foremost in her thoughts. She hoped his health was improving, and wondered how he was getting on with his life.  
  
Susan had also informed her that Carter had met a woman in Africa who had followed him back to Chicago. According to Susan, it was the coffee mess topic of conversation at County General; they were pretty serious about each other. Good for him, Abby thought idly, picking up the mail to thumb through. He's moved on.  
  
She glanced through the assortment of bills and advertisements, and started to set the pile down when she noticed a postcard. She stared at the glossy photo of a deserted beach and Tiki hut and the words "Greetings from Tahiti!" scrolled on top of the card in bright purple ink. Who in the world did she know taking a trip to Tahiti, she wondered idly. Not Maggie. Was Susan vacationing again? Flipping the card over, she quickly scanned the signature, absolutely started, and read the message, first quickly then again more slowly, in disbelief.  
  
"Hi Abby, Susan told me you had settled down with Eric in Seattle and that both of you are doing well. I wanted to let you know that I am engaged- amazing, huh? I met Deborah in Africa earlier this year. One thing led to another, and the rest as they say is history. Anyway, here we are in Tahiti enjoying a little R&R. We hope to marry early next year. Take care, John Carter"  
  
Abby continued to stare at the postcard in shock. Whatever had possessed him to send her a postcard from Tahiti with casual news of his engagement? And what had led him to string together so many pitiful clichés to tell her the news in the breeziest way possible? Christ, why didn't he just send me an invitation to the wedding, Abby thought, as anger and hurt blossomed inside of her. I could have given him away.  
  
She gazed at the photo of the pristine beach, the perfectly placed palm tree, the sugar-colored sand and cerulean sea. Why did he send it? To hurt her? To bring closure to their relationship? Or to taunt her so she would realize the prize that she had lost? Anger mobilized her. "I don't want to think about you anymore, John Carter, so go get married and have your honeymoon with your wife and live happily ever after and leave me the hell alone," she spat as she moved quickly to the sink.  
  
She stuffed the postcard down the kitchen drain, turned on the water, and flipped the switch for the garbage disposal. With grim satisfaction, she watched the card disappear, the palm trees and sandy beach crumpling and turning dark, then disappearing down the black hole into the sewers of Seattle. "I wish I could jam your bony ass down there, too," she shouted after it.  
  
She heard a small sound and looked up. Eric stood in the kitchen entrance, gaping at her. "Whose bony ass?" he asked in bewilderment.  
  
She opened her mouth to reply and burst into tears. "Oh, Eric," she wailed, "Carter is engaged."  
  
"Aw, honey," Eric crooned, "I am so sorry." He pulled her into his arms and let her cry for several minutes, rocking her back and forth. As she continued to cry, he rubbed her back. "But this shouldn't be such a shock to you. It's not as if you two were still in a relationship. You told me yourself numerous times that you two were done."  
  
"I know, I know. I don't love him anymore, really I don't, but it hurts to hear that he's moved on while I'm standing still." Abby stepped back from him and pulled herself together, wiping her face on his shirt.  
  
"Aw, Abs, I wish there were something I could do. Want me to crash the wedding and knock the cake over?"  
  
She burst out laughing at him, and hiccupped. "Or pee in the punch bowl? Why is it we have so many memories like that?" She smiled fondly at her younger brother, then sobered and slapped her palm against his chest. "God, Eric, maybe it's time I moved on with my life and stopped tagging along with you."  
  
"Sister dearest, you can live with me for the rest of your life if you'd like, you know that. I just think you'd be happier somewhere else." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. While she dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, he busied himself pouring a cup of coffee. "Tell the truth," he continued, "Seattle isn't exactly your cup of tea, is it?"  
  
"I'm fine, here. Really." She smiled reassuringly at him. "And what would you do without me to make you coffee?"  
  
Eric gazed at her, holding the hot mug of coffee between both hands. "I'd read the instructions on the bag of coffee, or call the Starbucks' hotline. Seriously, I'm better now, Abby. You know it as well as I do. You don't need to stay here and hold my hand anymore."  
  
She smiled at him fondly. "I know. But it's hard to let go."  
  
He smiled in turn. "Well, Mommy, it's time for the little bird to knock the Momma Bird out of the nest." His smile faded and he continued to gaze at her. "You have your own life to live, and we both know it isn't here with me. Although I hope you visit me as much as you can."  
  
She stepped toward him and cupped his face in both her hands. "You can count on it."  
  
***** Abby couldn't sleep-a restless energy possessed her, and she knew why. Her life had finally been scrubbed clean of emotional entanglements. She and Eric had reached an understanding that afternoon. She would start to look for a job in another city as soon as possible. She would stay with Eric while she searched, giving them a bit more time together. But both realized it was time for her to move on.  
  
She sat on the sofa and pulled her legs beneath her. Carter had moved on as well, leaving their relationship behind. Now that her initial shock was over, she could let that go with little regret. They weren't right together; deep inside, she had always known they were too damned different. But she had fooled herself for awhile into thinking it might work. Now, it was definitely all over but the shouting.  
  
But her relationship with Luka-now, that was another story. She was confused about what, if anything, was still between them. All she knew was that she needed to hear his voice, to know first hand that he was all right and that he hadn't forgotten her. She felt pulled toward him, like the tide to the shore. There was unfinished business between them, and she knew she wouldn't rest until she spoke with him.  
  
Before she could overanalyze the situation and change her mind, she snatched up the phone and punched in the area code and familiar number. The phone rang three times, four times. She started to replace the receiver to avoid the horror of leaving a message when she heard his voice say sleepily, "Hello?"  
  
She cleared her throat. "Hello, Luka?"  
  
"Abby?" Luka raised himself up on one elbow in bed. He looked at the clock on the dresser, and registered that it was 1:00 a.m. "What is the matter?"  
  
It hit her then that it was 2 hours later in Chicago. Oh, no, she thought with panic. "Oh, God, Luka, I'm sorry to call this time of night-I didn't take the time difference into account." She regretted giving into her impulse, and felt panicky. "I'm sorry, I'll call you back some other time."  
  
"No, no, no, don't hang up." Luka's voice came sharply from the other end of the line. "I'm so glad you called. It's good to hear your voice. Are you all right?"  
  
Abby was silent for a moment. She fleetingly thought, Carter would have asked me if I'd been drinking. And it would have been a good guess-once. But she was stone cold sober.  
  
"I'm the one who should be asking you that question. How are you doing? You gave everyone a scare."  
  
He shrugged, and cradled the receiver under his chin as he pushed the covers from his legs and swung to a seated position on the edge of the bed. "Including myself. But I am all right-and feel very lucky to be alive. Where are you calling from?" He slipped silently from the bed, and moved on bare feet into the living room.  
  
"Seattle."  
  
"Seattle?" He was fully awake now. "Why Seattle?"  
  
She curled her legs under her on the wing chair in the living room. "Eric found a job here-he's working full time and really seems to love it." She smiled as she continued, "He's discovered the great outdoors and has joined a wilderness group that backpacks and canoes and rafts here, and in Canada and Alaska. He's thinking about becoming a part-time tour guide. He's really happy, Luka, and I think he finally feels at peace."  
  
"Is he on his meds?"  
  
"That's the best part-one of his coworkers is bipolar, and has been on medication for 8 years now. He's a poster child for healthy living, and swears that the meds and the physical activity are keeping him sane. Eric really respects him a lot, so he has been following Rick's lead."  
  
"That's wonderful, Abby." Luka paused, feeling his way carefully. "And how about you? How are you doing?"  
  
Abby laughed shortly. "I'm fine. I've been sober for eight months now, if that's what you're asking."  
  
Luka responded mildly, "You know that wasn't what I meant."  
  
Abby expelled a breath. "Yes, I do know. You never were judgmental, were you?" Unlike others, she thought.  
  
"How are you, Abby? Have you made a life for yourself out there?"  
  
"Sort of. I mean, I work and tag along with Eric and his friends and wait for the occasional sunny day. But," she shrugged, "it's not the life I want."  
  
She continued briskly, "I'm thinking of moving on. Eric is so much better and has made a life for himself, so I think it's time I let him get on with it. I'm considering my options, but I've applied for a nursing position at several hospitals and should be hearing from them soon."  
  
"Was Cook County one of those under consideration?"  
  
Abby snorted. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no-you can't go home again, or at least I can't. My life there is over. Besides, I really don't think I could take Weaver again. Or having to work every day with some of my old coworkers." The unspoken question hung between them, but Luka understood as if she had shouted it over the phone line.  
  
"Carter is at Northwestern now-he has a teaching position. And he's engaged to Deborah-did you hear about the young woman he met Africa?"  
  
"Ah, yes, Deborah. She helped to get you out of Africa, didn't she?" For which I will be eternally grateful, she added silently. "Well, I sincerely hope Carter is happy." When Luka didn't respond, she added earnestly, "Really, I do. I want him to be happy. But as far as I'm concerned, that part of my life is over. I need to focus on what's the next chapter for me- I mean, Eric has been my project for so many months now that I found myself living one day at a time, right along with him. Now that he's better and ready to be on his own, well-" she flapped her hand helplessly, "I guess I need to figure our where I should go from here, and I've never been one to go backward."  
  
"No, not you," Luka agreed quietly. She froze, suddenly recalling with vivid precision that night in Susan's bedroom the previous Christmas when Luka had told her that he missed her and caressed her arm. He had given her a snow globe that night, so lovely and magical, so perfect for a woman who had never received such a gift as a girl. So perfect that she had panicked.  
  
Looking back, she remembered that she reacted in an ugly manner-bored and ungrateful when she opened the gift-to hide the rising panic that she felt. She realized at once that this Secret Santa gift was from Luka-who else would give her such a perfect, crystalline world that she could hold in the palm of her hand? She had felt an overwhelming need to distance herself from him, to push him away, to shove all of that old temptation away from her.  
  
He had stood behind her in that stifling bedroom by the bed piled with coats, his eyes dark with sadness and longing. The gentle brush of his hand against her cheek was more than she could take. She had fled, practically knocking him down to get to Carter, who had appeared in the doorway.  
  
Better to stay with Carter, who was safe and unthreatening. She may have been chaos to Carter, but Luka was chaos to her. Carter would never inspire the wild passions and intense grief that she had experienced with Luka. But being with Carter had never felt like going home, either.  
  
And she wanted to go home. Problem was, Chicago wasn't home any more, and neither was Minnesota. Her mind abruptly registered the quiet on the telephone line, and she sensed Luka waiting patiently for her to continue the conversation. "I may stay here in Seattle, or I may move to San Francisco or San Antonio."  
  
"Staying out west, huh," Luka remarked, surprised at the disappointment he felt at her answer. He knew she did not want to return to Chicago, but still he had hoped she might be closer. "Would you consider returning to Chicago for a visit? I would like to see you again, there are some things-"  
  
"Luka," a sleepy voice called from his bedroom.  
  
Abby felt her spine stiffen of its own volition. "Oh, God, Luka, you're not alone. I am so sorry."  
  
"No, no," Luka said hastily, trying to reassure her. He wasn't ready to lose contact with her, not after all this time.  
  
"I'll let you go-" She couldn't move or speak quickly enough to stave off the sense of shame or panic coursing through her.  
  
"No, don't hang up yet, wait-"  
  
But it was too late; Luka heard the dial tone in his ear and swore viciously. He hadn't even asked for a phone number to reach her.  
  
"If you're going to swear," Gillian stated mildly, "have the courtesy to do it in a language that I can understand."  
  
Abby whacked herself in the head with the phone receiver. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" God, why did she always assume he was alone? She now recalled Susan talking about the nurse from the Congo who had helped Carter find Luka, and how that nurse had returned to Chicago with Luka to help get him back on his feet. And had stayed to become part of his life, obviously. As always, my timing sucks, she thought bitterly.  
  
She placed the phone carefully back on the table, and burst into tears.  
  
"I was the forest for love songs/The one who can't love wrong/The one who won't fall/But will still write it down/I'm the one who would understand/Who listens with pen in hand/Everyone's shoulder/Till it's me who falls down"  
  
First set of lyrics is Steely Dan, who just keep going and going. Second set is another Nanci Griffith song, "Nobody's Angel," from the Dust Bowl Symphony album. Get it. No kidding, if you're an incurable romantic, get it. 


End file.
